


Sweet Revenge

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Wetworks [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Please</i>." He crouched down, in close to Jim's expensive leather chair.</p><p>Slow, cold smile. "You are so very, very pretty when you beg. Perhaps if you beg enough, I will change my mind."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Revenge

Jim was a shit.

Jim was a controlling asshole shit who wouldn't give him the fucking _keys_ to his belt. "I swear to fucking god, please. _Please_."

"No." No because he was a motherfucker of epic proportions and Sebastian was going to kill him in his sleep. The fact that he was utterly unafraid of that was one more reason to wait until he was asleep and then do it.

The fact that he probably deserved it after the thing on the rooftop was no comfort to him at the moment.

" _Please_." He crouched down, in close to Jim's expensive leather chair.

Slow, cold smile. "You are so very, very pretty when you beg. Perhaps if you beg enough, I will change my mind."

He shifted his kneeling position, bladder screaming at him. If he'd known that was coming, he would've sat in the heat, would've drank less, would have stubbornly fought Jim on the road to that point in his life. "Oh, god. Fuck. Fuck! Fine. I'll, please. Please let me piss."

"No." No, and he was going to fucking kill him. He really, truly was. "Not pretty enough yet."

He edged in closer, hands clasped in front of him. "Please, Jim. Please. I'm sorry for what I did..."

"How sorry?" Fuck. He'd confess to however much guilt Jim wanted, he would pay money, he would kill people, he would do anything, and the urge to piss when he was still locked tight, unable to get at his dick, unable to piss, it was getting to a point where he couldn't bear it. He was going to explode. "My Westwood had to be thrown away, Sebastian. You know how Daddy ha~ates that." Fucking sing-song fucking bastard fucking fucking fuck.

There was no reasoning with him when he was like that. There was just death, or the desperate insane hope that one of Jim's whims would swing his way and benefit him. For once.

"Please, sir. I'm sorry, I just had to make the shot, you _needed_ me to make the shot, please..."

Oh, shit. He could hear the grinding of JIm's teeth, see the tension in his frame. "What I needed was FOR YOU TO LET ME PISS!" Oh, fuck. Fuck, standing up, cords of his neck standing out, expression furious, and a lesser man would have already urinated. Hell, a lesser man might have shit himself in fear, to be frank.

Except he didn't have the option. He stayed on his knees, and tilted back, staring up at Jim. "Please, Jim. Please, I'm sorry..."

"How. Fucking. Sorry?"

Oh. There was only one place this was going. There was no way he was going to win this situation.

 

"I'm so sorry, Jim, I'll do anything, I'll piss myself right here if you'll just _give me the bloody fucking lock_ , _please_ ," he whinged.

God. Jim sat back down, mouth curling into a pleased smile. "Soon. What will you promise me, besides your very pretty pleading?"

"Oh, god. What do you need to hear?" He sucked in a shaking breath, and knelt, waiting.

"You're going to replace the Westwood," Jim said after a much too long moment. "Twice over."

"Yes, sure, absolutely." He shifted in closer to Jim, stayed on his knees, because it made the ache in his bladder easier to contain. Almost.

Almost was relative. "And you'll suck me off before you piss yourself."

"Yes, fine, just please..." He started fumbling with Jim's stupid skinny belt.

Hum of pleasure, and he was a wicked fucking bastard. It wasn't that Sebastian didn't know, it was just that sometimes it was more obvious than others. That and it usually wasn't directed at him in its entirety. Jim sprawled, leaned back in his chair, and did nothing more than watch.

It was better than having him loom over Sebastian, standing and shaking in his outrage. Sebastian crawled closer forward, trying to reach and stroke Jim's cock free with as much grace as he could manage.

"Caaareful." Sing-song was almost as bad as looming fury, but he simply smiled and let Sebastian pull him free. God, he had to piss, and blowing Jim could take for-fucking-ever.

Jim was a connoisseur of blowjobs, and liked a slow idle sucking, liked to take his time with it. Sebastian leaned forward, took the head in his mouth, and started to suck slowly. It was hard, nearly impossible, because all he could do was whimper. He felt distended, felt like he was going to burst, and people did. Their bladders burst and that was terrifying just to consider. He didn't want to blow Jim, because he'd end up blowing him until he ended up fucking hospitalized at this rate.

He brought his hand up, hoped he didn't get smacked away or told to stop, and started to stroke Jim's shaft as he sucked, trying to egg him on. More sensation meant faster if he could get away with it. If he couldn't, well. He'd find out when he got smacked on the head, he supposed, but then Jim's hand curled around the nape of his neck and pulled him in close and he was so fucking grateful that it was hard not to sob.

He bobbed, slurping messily, letting Jim guide him and shove him down because it meant he might manage to piss before he exploded, worshipping at Jim's feet like a little peon.

When he came, it was a shock to the system, choking Sebastian with the suddenness of it, salty and thick and making him shudder because fuck. That was faster than he had expected.

It was a relief, and he swallowed, sputtering and half choking to get it right, to not make an utter mess of it, though he as sure Jim liked the view regardless. Loved it, undoubtedly, and his thumb was rubbing over Sebastian's cheekbone by the time he got his breath. "Hmmm. Well. I suppose I should give you the key now."

"Please...." His voice pitched to a low desperate whine as he struggled to hold still.

"In my right front pocket, Basty-darling."

He shoved a hand into the pocket quickly, fingers shaking, careful to not tear as he dragged it out and struggled to open his own pants. The chastity device was a fucking bitch and a half, and he couldn't help the raw noises he gave while he struggled to free himself, body shuddering from the pain of it. He finally managed, and fumbled free the plug that was preventing him from pissing all over himself and fuck.

Oh.

Fucking god, **yes**.

He'd never been so happy to ruin a pair of pants and a pair of shoes in his life, and he barely managed to   scoot back, away from Jim before he started pissing himself, hot and wet pulses like it was all fighting to get out at once. The relief of it was amazing, it was fucking orgasmic, and he found himself leaning on his hand in a pool of his own urine, gasping for breath.

"Hmmm. I win."

"You always win." And he needed to shower. Call and get someone up to clean up the fucking floor. Christ. Everything burned and felt heavy, but he hadn't died and it was a relief.

JIm leaned in close to him, carefully avoiding the soaking puddles around him. "Something you should remember."

Sebastian hung his head, panting and half overwhelmed with the smell. "Yes sir."

"Yes." Yes, and the sudden pattering of urine adding itself to Sebastian's own sounded, followed by a laugh that quite possibly would have terrified the average human being.

Sebastian just laid there and felt it spill over him in rivulets, like a short rain. He couldn't even pant out a protest of any sort.

"There. Now we're done."


End file.
